Bailey, Banks amp; Biddle did the invitations, and the Rittenhouse Club was engaged to cater the affair.
There was a reception line, the birthday couple (a privileged few would be taken upstairs, later, to view Penelope Alice) and both sets of grandparents.
Matthew M. Payne entered the line at seven-fifty, a moment after Mrs. Nesbitt III had given Mrs. Browne a signi ficant look, indicating that she believed they should abandon the line to mingle with the children's guests.
"Hello, Matt," Mr. Chadwick Thomas Nesbitt III said.
"Good evening, sir," Matt said.
"You look so nice in black tie, Matt," Mrs. Chadwick Thomas Nesbitt III said.
"Please tell my mother," Matt said.
"Your mother and dad are here," Mr. Soames Browne said.
"Daphne was afraid you wouldn't be coming, Matt," Mrs. Soames Browne said.
"That was when I thought Daffy was going to do the cooking."
"Matt, must I ask you yet again not to call her that?" Mrs. Soames Browne said.
Matt snapped his fingers in mock chagrin, indicating he had forgotten.
"Well, the birthday boy himself," he said, extending his hand to Mr. Nesbitt IV. "Congratulations!"
"Thank you for coming, buddy."
"And the mother of my goddaughter! About to spill out of her dress!"
"Oh, fuck you, Matt," Mrs. Nesbitt IV said.
The grandparents pretended not to hear.
Mrs. Soames Browne remembered again, as she usually did on such occasions, that at age five Matt Payne had talked Daphne into playing doctor and that she had concluded at that time that there was something wrong with him.
Over the years, he had done nothing to disabuse her of that notion.
There is a screw loose in him somewhere, she thought. The policeman business was another proof of that. The very idea of someone with a background like his being an ordinary cop is absurd.
If the truth were known, he probably had more to do with Penny getting on dope than anyone knows. When you roll around in the mud with pigs, you're going to get dirty.
FOUR
Matt Payne took a look at the buffet laid out in the game room, then at the line waiting to get at the food, and walked to the bar.
"A glass of your very best ginger ale, if you please, my good man," he said, but then changed his mind. "Oh, to hell with it, give me a scotch, no ice, and soda."
The barman smiled at him.
"My mother's here. What I was going to do, was wait for the question, phrased accusingly, 'What are you drinking? ' to which I would have truthfully responded, 'Ginger ale.' Just to get her reaction."
"What changed your mind?" the barman asked as he made the drink.
Matt gestured around the crowded room.
"I need a little liquid courage to face all these merry-makers. "
The barman chuckled.
And then Matt spotted a familiar face.
"I'll be damned," he said. "There is someone human here, after all."
He crossed the room to a small, wiry, blond-headed man standing beside a somewhat taller female. There was a thick rope of pearls around the woman's neck, reaching down to the valley between her breasts, and on the third finger of her left hand was an engagement ring with a four-carat emerald-cut stone in it.
"Hello, Matt," the woman said, smiling at him. "How are you?"
"Feeling sorry for myself," Matt said.
"How's that?" she asked.
"My superiors are cruel to me. You wouldn't believe what they've had me doing all day. And all day yesterday. "
The man smiled.
"The tapes?"
"The obscenity-deleted tapes," Matt agreed.
"Getting anything?" the man asked.
"Stop right there, the two of you," the woman ordered firmly. "No shop talk! Really, precious!"
Precious was also known as Captain David R. Pekach. He was commanding officer of the Highway Patrol, and one of the two captains in Special Operations. The lady was his fiancйe, Miss Martha Peebles.
In the obituary of Alexander F. Peebles in the Wall Street Journal, it was reported that he had died possessed of approximately 11.5 percent of the known anthracite coal reserves of the United States. Six months later, the same newspaper reported that Miss Martha Peebles's lawyers had successfully resisted efforts by her brother to break her father's will, in which he had bequeathed to his beloved daughter all of his worldly goods of whatever kind and wherever located.
One night six months before, Captain Pekach had twice gone, at the "suggestion" of Mayor Carlucci, to 606 Glengarry Lane in Chestnut Hill to personally assure the citizen resident therein that the Philadelphia Police Department generally and the Highway Patrol in particular was going to do everything possible to apprehend the thief, or thieves, who had been burglarizing the twenty-eight-room turn-of-the-century mansion set on fourteen acres.
On his first visit that night, Captain Pekach had assured Miss Peebles that he would take a personal interest in her problem, to include driving past her home himself that very night when he was relieved as Special Operations duty officer at midnight. Miss Peebles inquired if his work schedule, quitting at midnight, wasn't hard on his wife. Captain Pekach informed her he was not, and never had been, married.
"In that case, Captain, if you can find the time to pass by, why don't you come in for a cup of coffee? I rarely go to bed before two."
During Captain Pekach's second visit to 606 Glengarry Lane that night, Miss Peebles had gone to bed earlier than was her custom, and for the first time in her thirty-five years not alone. Their engagement to be married had been announced three weeks before by her attorney, and her father's lifelong friend, Brewster Cortland Payne, Esq., of Mawson, Payne, Stockton, McAdoo amp; Lester, at a dinner party at 606 Glengarry Lane.
"There's something there, captain," Detective Payne answered, ignoring her.
"Matt, please!" Miss Peebles said.
"Matt, I worked Narcotics for four years," Captain Pekach said. "If there was something, I would know!"
"Matt, go away," Miss Peebles said.
"Well, I hope you're right," Matt said. "But…"
"Precious!" Miss Peebles said firmly.
"Nice to see you, Matt," Captain Pekach said.
"If you'll excuse me," Matt said, smiling, "I think I'll mingle."
"Why don't you?" Miss Peebles said, smiling.
Matt looked around the room for his parents, and when he didn't find them, climbed the stairs from the game room to the dining room on the floor above. There he saw them, at the far end of the room. Talking with Penny's parents.
Christ, I can't handle that!
Penny's mother pities me, and her father thinks I'm responsible.
He turned so that they wouldn't see him.
And found himself looking at the rear end of a good-looking blonde and then the reflection of her face in the huge sheet of plate glass that offered a view of the Delaware River and the Camden works of Nesfoods International.
He walked to her.
She looked at him, and then away.
"Hi!" he said.
"Hello," she said.
"You may safely talk to me," he said.
"How's that?"
"I'm the godfather of the new rug rat," Matt said.
That got a smile.
"Have you got a name, godfather?"
"Matt Payne."
She gave him her hand.
"Susan Reynolds," she said. "I was Daffy's big sister at Bennington."
"That must have been a job."
That got him another smile.